


Out of the Ashes

by Owlsofthenight



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Action, Adult Language, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Drama, F/M, Firefighters, Five Stages of Grief, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, Rescue, Survival, Suspense, Whump, all of the feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 20:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9289025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlsofthenight/pseuds/Owlsofthenight
Summary: Lieutenant Dixon struggles to cope with the death of his brother who was killed in the line of duty. Not long after, the younger brother finds himself in a similar predicament, fighting for his life and the girl he was sent to save.He must learn to overcome his demons if he wants to survive.





	1. An Extinguished Flame

**Author's Note:**

> Been watching too much Walking Dead and Ladder 49 I guess ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

\----------

The lights above the bay flickered as they turned on and illuminated the rigs that sat peacefully inside. Although temporarily abandoned, they were more than ready to make a hasty departure into the early morning air, should those alarms drop. _When_ those alarms drop.

Daryl walked alongside the engine to where a section of gear racks hung, taking a seat on the diamond plate beneath the pump panel on it. And he stared. He swore that one of these times, he was going to walk in and see his turnout gear placed back into its designated spot. He would see his helmet. See his hitches tucked neatly around his size fourteen boots. See the reflective letters "Dixon 1" wrinkled in the thick, tan fabric of his coat as it hung from its hook.

Instead, it was bare. The only empty rack amongst an entire wall. Maybe it was getting washed. That was, after all, a pretty bad fire they had the other day. There were all sorts of nasty shit that they would have come into contact with, and any prolonged exposure would be unhealthy.

He couldn't resist it any longer and allowed his eyes to drift upwards to the framed picture which stood in the absent helmet's place; Merle in Class A uniform with that infamous smirk of his, one which everyone had grown to both love and hate. An extinguished candle sat at its side.

And for some Godforsaken reason, the tears just wouldn't come. There was just no desire for him to cry. He hadn't this entire time. By now, people were making comments regarding his lack of emotion. Not even to his face, but behind his back. He knew there were rumors and he noticed the sympathetic stares.

He was just too numb and tired. He knew he was on the verge of sleep deprivation, but he did well to hide it. He knew if it showed, he would be sent packing for some mandatory time off... and he didn't want that. He wanted to keep his body and mind busy to prevent him from reliving that moment over and over in his head. His foggy memory would often alter the timeline and scenarios, playing the day out differently than what actually occurred, and it would all point back at him. It would all be his fault.

From the moment the call was dispatched to their time of arrival, it would have been the route he had chosen to take. From the time they arrived to the time his men got onto the roof, it would have been his orders for them to do so.

And then that sound of buckling wood. His yell. Those angry flames that shot up from hell and swallowed his brother whole. It would all be his fault.

Footsteps were now coming from the other side of the truck and quickly sent Daryl out of his seat. He found himself face to face with Rick, who didn't seem all that surprised to see him.

"Capt." Daryl nodded.

"You're up early."

He shrugged, "Had to take a piss." 

"Did you get lost? Bathroom's that way." Rick motioned over his shoulder.

Daryl dropped his gaze.

"It's alright." Rick said after a moment of silence.

"What?"

"Trying to grieve. Everyone experiences it differently. Hell, it was only two days ago... haven't even had the funeral..."

"Think I don't know that?"

"No, I'm just saying that you need to figure this out. For your own sake. You seem to be bottling it all up... suppressing it... that isn't good."

"Can't help it. I've tried." Daryl began to admit, "I get home and still think he's gonna be in there when I open the door. I don't know what to do."

"You heard what they told you at the debriefing... the five stages of grief."

"What about it?" The question ended more like a sentence.

"The first step is denial. Not everyone experiences it, but I think _you_ are."

Daryl shook his head while looking back at the empty rack, "I ain't denying shit. Just getting used to the jackass not being here anymore."

"If you need time off..."

"I don't." 

"But if you _do_ ,"

"I don't!" Daryl barked, stepping back once he realized how inadvertently aggressive he had become, "Sorry."

Rick hadn't budged, and the expression on his face remained unchanged, "Just trying to look out for you. We need you focused if you're gonna be on the job, but no one expects that of you right now. Just promise me you'll say something if you can't do it."

"I promise." 

Rick patted him on the shoulder before walking away, only to stop a few feet from the door. He spoke soft and sincere.

"Hey Daryl... it wasn't your fault."

Six words, and just like that, something in Daryl cracked wide open.

Hearing it come from someone else had triggered what was buried so deep inside, left completely untouched, no matter how hard he had tried to access it before. The blood rushed from his face, his heart began to pound, and when he tried to swallow, his throat grew tight. And he stood there, alone, as tears fell steadily down his face.

\----------

Once he felt confident with his post-cry appearance, Daryl walked into the day room to see Rick in the kitchen, making a pot of coffee.

"Want some?"

"Sure." Although a shot of whiskey in it sounded even better, "Wonder what today's gonna bring."

Rick raised his eye brows and nodded in agreement, "This whole week's been out of control."

"Think it's the new guy?"

"Black cloud? Oh hell yea. No doubt about it."

A part of Daryl felt bad for the guy.

Glenn had just been sworn in the week prior and already had to face a firefighter's worse nightmare- the loss of one of their own.

He was impressed at how well the kid seemed to hold it together, but Daryl was glad he was on the engine crew. He currently lacked the energy, patience, and willpower to deal with a probie on the fire ground.

"Morning." Carol walked in, freshly awoken, wearing the standard work shirt and sweatpants they all had on.

"Morning." Daryl retrived the hot mug from Rick and proceeded to take a long sip.

She rubbed his shoulder on the way by, "How you feeling?"

"How you think?"

Carol sighed, although completely aware of her friend's tendency to act standoffish.

Glenn was next to come in, followed by Shane, Sasha, Tyreese, and Abraham. They all took their usual spots; some at the couch, others at the chairs. Tyreese and Shane worked at getting breakfast started while someone else flipped on the morning news.

Daryl remained hunched over his coffee as he peered at the table infront of him. Nothing in particular went through his mind, but he would often find himself zoning out when there was nothing else to do. Carol took a seat beside him at the table and snapped him from the trance. He glanced at her before he leaned back in his seat and looked over at the television.

It was after an update on the hurricane that had begun to form off the coast of Florida that video footage popped up onto the screen, and it made every muscle in his body tense up. The same building. The same flames. The same night. There was mutual tension in the room.

The news anchor spoke, "...it was the same fire that claimed the life of firefighter Merle Dixon who served with the department for ten years. Fire investigators..." Tyreese fumbled for the remote, all eyes on him, "...now reporting that arson was most likely the-" 

He had shut it off, but it was too late.

Daryl had already stood up so fast, his chair flew backwards, "Nobody was gonna fucking tell me?!"

There was no reply. Only multiple eyes fixed on him, speechless.

"Screw all of you." He hissed before he stormed out the room and slammed the door behind him.


	2. The Face that Haunts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: slightly graphic description of a burn injury

"Daryl!" Carol called out as she chased him past the parked trucks.

He stopped. Not really because he wanted to, but because he had nowhere else to go.

"We didn't know how to tell you." Her voice shook, the pain still very real inside her as well.

And that's what he kept forgetting. He wasn't the only person to lose someone that day.

He started to pace in between the engine and tower ladder, "That fucker's gonna get what's coming to him. Even if I have to hunt that bastard down myself... I'm gonna make him fucking pay!"

"Daryl, I know you're mad, but they're working on it. They just don't have any leads yet..."

"Of course they don't!" His voice cracked as he slammed a fist against a truck, "They'll get the guy who lit the fucking farm stand on fire but not the God damn asshole who burnt down an apartment building and killed my brother!"

Carol had already made her way across the floor, arms held out to grab him as he pressed his face into her shoulder. Muffled cries arose as she cradled the back of his head and collapsed with him to the ground as his legs gave away.

Tears fell down her cheeks, heartbroken for her friend as reality hit him harder than ever. It finally came out. Tyreese had entered into the bay to check on them, but Carol shook her head and signaled for him to leave, which he did.

The sobs gradually subsided into shuddered breaths before it all fell quiet. His head still rested against her shoulder and she could feel dampness on the fabric beneath him.

"Sorry 'bout your shirt." His voice was soft and hoarse.

She let out a slight chuckle, "That's the least of my worries."

She held up his face with her hand to reveal his swollen, blood shot eyes. She hugged him tight, to which he returned, before she helped him stand. The two moved to the front bumper of the tower ladder and watched out the open bay door at the traffic that passed by. Daryl's mouth opened slightly, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

He glanced at Carol before he looked back out onto the street, "I blame myself."

She stared him down, "You aren't responsible for what happened, Daryl. Don't do that."

"It keeps running through my head, though. He was all pissed off cuz I sent him up to the roof. He wanted me to go instead so he could do search. He wasn't in the right mind set. Maybe he didn't sound the roof properly..."

"It was completely unavoidable. Nothing you did or didn't do would have changed anything."

"It should have been me up there."

Her facial expression switched to anger, "You need to stop acting like you sent him to his death. He knew the risks. He wouldn't have done this otherwise."

Just as Daryl went to speak, the familiar, yet unexpected, tones aired out over the intercom and sent their heads shooting up in surprise. They leaped off the bumper and bolted for the gear racks as the dayroom door swung open.

Shoes were kicked off, feet jumped into boots, coats were swung over shoulders, and helmets pulled down from their shelves as a voice sounded out.

"...MVA, multiple vehicles with possible entrapment. Intersection of Ocean Avenue and Coit Street. Engine 10, Ladder 14, Redline EMS..."

Before the message could repeat, and despite his knowledge that he looked like shit, Daryl had already climbed into the driver's seat of the ladder truck and began to flip switches. With the twist of a key, its engine roared to life.

Rick had climbed into the officer's seat as Daryl pulled down a headset that hung next to his head. He adjusted the mic as he checked on the engine crew's progress beside them. Once the other truck began to rumble, Daryl glanced into the back of the cab, "We good?"

After receiving a unanimous confirmation, he flipped every LED light switch and began to accelerate out of the bay with the engine close behind.

"Ladder 14 to dispatch, we're en route." Rick spoke into his headset.

"Copy, Ladder 14 responding." The female voice relayed back.

"Engine 10 to dispatch, we're responding." Sasha's voice came over the radio right after.

"Copy, Engine 10 responding."

Air horns blasted and sirens wailed as the two trucks sped down the street. A path for them had been cleared as other drivers pulled off to the side, minus a few incompetent ones.

"Move out of the way, asshole!" Daryl shouted as Rick blew the air horn at the pickup that promptly stopped in front of them.

"Carol and Shane, grab the generator and tools once we get there. Feel up to it, Daryl?" Rick asked as he pulled on his extrication gloves.

"Yea, I can do it."

After they connected onto another main road, the trucks rapidly approached the crash site. Two cars could be seen. The engine compartment on one had smoke pouring out of it, but appeared to be unoccupied while the other sat on its roof in the middle of the intersection.

Rick removed his headset and flipped on a portable radio, "Ladder 14 to dispatch, we're on scene. We've got a two car MVA, one with entrapment. Start a medic."

Daryl parked the rig diagonally at a safe distance to block traffic while the engine did the same on the other side. As he got his extrication gloves and safety glasses on, he could see Abraham and Glenn from the engine. They went to stretch out a line to extinguish the flames which now engulfed the first vehicle.

By the time Daryl got over to the inverted car's driver side window, a crowd had formed in the distance. Some people, most likely witnesses or victims of the collision, were crying and yelling something inaudible. He was too focused on what he was doing to listen. He got down on the ground as glass crumbled beneath him. He moved the deflated airbag aside to reveal the unconscious person that laid behind it, covered in blood. Although the door was crumbled up like a tin can, he tried at the handle to see if it would open. Not even close.

"Where are those cutters?" He yelled just as Carol and Shane arrived with the equipment and got it set up.

He picked up the hydraulic tool and opened its teeth to position it on one of the door columns. He twisted the knob and allowed the sheers to tighten with incredible pressure, able to snap any bit of metal that got between them. Once the column broke in half, he moved onto the next and began the process over again.

Just as he went to twist the knob to close the teeth, something caught his eye over the car in the distance.

He suddenly couldn't move. His eyes were open like a deer in head lights. He couldn't breathe or blink. Couldn't hear the loud hum of the generator that sat five feet away. Could no longer see the mangled-up car that rested at his feet.

All he could see was _him_.

Half his face was burned, the skin seared black and peeling, the eye underneath not visible. His helmet was charred and the once tan gear now coated in blackness. The sight scared the shit out of Daryl so much, he almost didn't recognize him. Almost _couldn't_  recognize him.

"Merle?" The name left his lips no louder than a whisper.

"Daryl! What the hell are you waiting for?!" Shane yelled from behind, "Cut the post!"

He glanced back at Shane, and then back up above the car.

He was gone.

His hands trembled, but Daryl resumed with his work. With a couple of loud pops, some delicate maneuvering and a forceful twist, the door separated from the car. Daryl stepped back with the tools as Shane carried away the door and allowed the EMS crew to move in and begin their part of the assignment.

\----------

Daryl finished closing a compartment door as Shane walked up to his side, "What the hell was that?"

"The hell you talking about?"

" _That_ back there. You choked up. What the hell is going on with you?"

"He just lost his brother, Shane. Relax." Carol stepped in to mediate.

"I'm not gonna relax. Not when shit like this is gonna happen out on calls." Shane got into Daryl's face, "If you can't think straight, you shouldn't be out here."

"Back the fuck up!" Daryl shoved him.

"Enough!" Carol jumped in between them.

Rick charged out from behind the rig, "What the hell's going on?!"

Daryl dropped his gaze as Shane continued to glare at him.

"Huh?!"

"There's something going on with him. He completely froze up out there." Shane reported.

"I didn't freeze up."

"Alright! Enough!" Rick demanded as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "Daryl, come with me."

Daryl got into the driver's seat of the rig and rested his helmet down on the center divider.

Rick exhaled, "What's going on?"

"Nothing." He mumbled.

"Nothing, huh? Really doesn't seem like it... You know, I was afraid this was gonna happen..."

Daryl flipped up his hands, "Afraid _what_ was gonna happen?"

"You're pushing yourself when you can't be pushed any more... you need time off."

"No, I don't."

"Daryl, you-"

"You told me to figure this out. Well, this is me figuring it out! This is me handling my grief. Getting in this truck and doing this damn job. If I have to stay home... God damnit Rick, I'm gonna lose my mind." His eyes stung and began to water.

Rick stared out the windshield, obviously conflicted with the dilemma.

"It won't happen again. I swear."

Rick looked at him wearily, "What happened out there?"

Daryl looked down at his hands as he fought back the visual, and the tears which threatened his eyes, "I saw Merle."

Rick appeared surprised, "You're hallucinating?"

"I don't know. I just... was working on the door and saw him. He was standing there in his gear, all burnt up. His face was..." He couldn't bring himself to describe it as he felt the wetness of a tear slide down his cheek.

Rick sighed, "Have you been sleeping at all?"

Daryl shrugged, "Sort of."

He nodded, "Sounds like you could use it. I'm sending you home once we get back. Get some rest. Come in for your shift tomorrow if you feel better, but if you look like shit, I'm getting someone else to cover you."

"Thanks." Daryl said with a slight smirk at the edge of his mouth.

"Let's go finish up here so we can leave."


	3. The Call

Daryl walked into the station with his duffle bag hung over his shoulder. 

He had managed to sleep last night, having laid with his eyes closed for an undisclosed amount of time in an attempt to force it upon himself. His body all but shut down once it finally discovered just how tired and desperate it was for the break. He felt more lively than he had in days, and hoped it showed as Rick came down the stairs from the bunk room.

"Get any sleep?"

"Yea. Slept in all morning."

"Good. Then you have no excuse not to help me with a few things around here."

"Didn't we just get a probie for that?" Daryl grumbled.

"Oh don't worry, he'll be doing plenty. I need you to run checklist. Fucking crew didn't do it this morning. Too many back to back calls."

"Place's cursed." 

"Yea, well, whatever it is, it needs to end soon. There's gonna be nothing left of this city." Rick said as he walked away, "Checklists are in the dispatch room incase you forgot."

"I didn't forget."

 ----------

The trucks were parked on the front apron of the station. Glenn and Tyreese worked to clean the engine as soapy water flowed into a nearby storm drain. Daryl stood in front of the ladder truck, clipboard in hand, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. He pulled out a chainsaw and started it up, revving it a few times before he felt satisfied and checked it off the list.

"Hey, watch where you're spraying, rook!" He yelled as he felt droplets of water hit the back of his neck.

"Sorry."

A door slammed shut before Carol walked around the rig and up to Daryl, "Middle compartment's all set."

"Thanks." He began to check off the boxes.

He pulled the cigarette off of his ear and reached into his pocket for a lighter.

"Don't we breathe enough crap as it is in this job?" She asked as he blew a cloud from his mouth.

"It's _because_ of this job." He brushed past her to the final compartment which held spare air bottles and rescue equipment.

"Well, it's not good for you."

Daryl purposefuly took an extra long drag with a smug look on his face, to which Carol rolled her eyes and walked away.

When he was done, he took a seat on the ladder's tailgate and looked into the open bay. That one gear rack still stuck out like a sore thumb to him, and he began to reminisce. He remembered his first day at work, two years after his brother had started. He remembered how pissed Merle got when he was promoted to Lieutenant before him. Remembered the time he filled his boots with whipped cream in retaliation for it. The way he would drive that truck like no one else's business.

That was _Merle's_  truck.

And Daryl was pretty certain his brother would have rolled in his grave if he saw him behind that wheel today, but what he experienced when he drove it made him feel so connected to his late brother.

Merle was an asshole. An arrogant, pompous jerk to almost everyone he met, but that attitude would quickly vanish once the tones went out. His brother's eyes would change. His entire demeanor would shift and the way he spoke became more professional. He was a different person, and Daryl knew deep down inside that the rest was just a front he would, for some reason, put on. 

And that was the brother he wanted to remember. The one that made him proud. His problem before had been the way he felt desensitized to everything that had happened. Now, the burn in his eyes and pain in his chest were almost constant.  

"You alright?" Sasha had sat down beside him and he didn't notice.

"Yea, I'm fine."

"Hey sunshine," Negan called out to Daryl as he stepped from the dispatch room, "You working hard or hardly working?"

Daryl got up and dropped the cigarette butt into the container outside. He shoved the clipboard into Negan's chest and headed into the day room.

Negan frowned, "Well _I_ thought it was funny."

Sasha shook her head, "Shitty timing, Chief."

\----------

Daryl exited the truck as he unclipped his coat. They had just returned from a small kitchen fire, which only took Glenn and a fire extinguisher to put out. Everyone stood at the racks together as they undressed and returned their gear to the proper places.

"I gotta shave this shit." Negan said as he scratched the scruff of his face, "Wouldn't be able to get a good seal these days even if I wanted to."

"Not like you need one, white lid." Rick teased. Being a personal friend out of work, he could get away with it.

"Yea, yea."

The tones that resonated throughout the bay had no match against the sound of frustrated moans and groans that ensued.

"You fucking kidding me?" Shane complained as they all began to gear back up, albeit sluggishly.

As the dispatcher named off an unusual amount of companies after theirs, their pace picked up, "... Engine 10, Ladder 14...possible structure fire... multiple callers..." 

Daryl's ears began to ring as the address was named off. Adrenaline hit him harder than usual as he sped back over to the driver seat, "What was the address?"

"The industrial building over on Bank Street!" Rick's bodiless voice yelled.

Both trucks accelerated out of the station quickly, the air horn being laid on a bit more frequent than usual. Daryl saw Rick in the peripheral of his vision pick up a portable radio, which he switched over to the fire ground frequency, "Negan, you just had to say something, huh?"

There was a chirp of static, "Just keep your shit together, this place is gonna be a ticking time bomb."

"What does he mean by that?" Daryl questioned nervously.

"It has all sorts of shit in it. Flammable liquids, combustible dust... we're going in fast and getting out faster."

"Dispatch to all units, be advised... we're receiving multiple calls for unaccounted workers..."

The truck accelerated even more. 

No one talked. They just sat, strapped into their air packs as they watched out the windows in anticipation.

Daryl's brain now functioned like a computer. It no longer processed emotion or thoughts. Rather, it had become a GPS. He calculated routes and avoided obstacles. That was it. Getting to the fire was his only known objective, everything else was too vague for him to predict.

"We definitely got a worker." Rick pointed out through the windshield at the cloud of smoke which rose in the distance.

It seemed like they couldn't get there fast enough. They were the closest company, only minutes down the road, but it just wasn't enough. Not when time was such a valuable component.

The large structure, or what could be seen of it beyond the thick smoke and flames, appeared around a set of adjacent buildings as Daryl pulled into a parking lot, bypassing the gate.

"Engine 10 to dispatch, we have a confirmed working structure fire.” Tyreese reported over the radio.

They positioned the rigs out front; the engine near a hydrant and the ladder towards the building. Daryl jumped out of the cab to be greeted by hands that grabbed and tugged at his coat.

"Please! My sister's in there! She's still in there! Oh my God, Beth!" A panicked woman screamed as she pleaded for his help.

"You need to get back!" Daryl ordered.

Her coworkers grabbed her arms as she fell to the ground in hysterics, "Beth!"

"Where's the last place you saw her?!"

"I don't know! We got separated on the way out!"

 _Shit_.

Negan charged over, "We don't have time to fuck around, get in there and find these people! Before this becomes a shit show!"

Daryl had already run to a compartment, set down the halligan bar he had grabbed, and began to don an air pack, "Rick, what's the plan?"

"We're going in, we can't wait for the other crews."

More sirens could be heard way off in the distance as the engine crew laid out lines and got connected to the hydrant while Sasha stood in front of the pump panel, adjusting knobs and levers.

"We got a guy last seen at the back of the building towards D side, somewhere around the mechanical room." Rick updated them as they ran to the entrance.

"Some woman said her sister didn't make it out during evac. She has no clue where she would be." Daryl added before they dropped to their knees and tossed off their helmets.

Their movements mimicked each other as they turned on the air packs. Multiple beeps sounded as the integrated PASS devices were activated; an alarm that would signal a firefighter in distress after a prolonged time of being immobile.

Daryl did his best to keep his cool and process through his actions correctly, but he had so much that bombarded through his busy mind. The situation they were about to enter. The dangers that they would face. The lives of the people still inside. Any hindrances during their rescue operations they might experience.

He inhaled deeply.

_Just breathe. Just look. Just listen. Just focus._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it seems like I ended the chapter at a bad time. I had to cut it off and that was the only spot that worked. If I left the whole thing together like I originally intended, it would have been almost a 4,000 word chapter! Little too long for this short story.
> 
> Will post the next one tomorrow!


	4. Pitch Black

\----------

A lot over the years had become second nature to Daryl, and when the mask sealed to his face as he tightened the straps, he had already begun to control his breathing to conserve his air supply. He pulled his nomex hood up, got his helmet back on, and stood with the halligan bar before the team of four stormed inside.

They navigated into a large area filled with machinery, equipment, hallways, and catwalks which hung from above. Heavy fire consumed the far end of the building while there was smoke suspended throughout.

"Daryl and Carol, search over there! Shane, come with me!" Rick's muffled voice ordered.

Daryl led Carol to the opposite side of the large room to where Rick had instructed them. Their flashlights cut through the haze which settled down around them as they quickly checked every nook and crevice they could find. With the smoke getting as thick as it was, Daryl knew that their best outcome would be the discovery of unconscious, yet still alive victims. With every minute that passed, the ending to that scenario was susceptible to change. He could feel his heart pound as he heard metal give away and collapse in the distance from the intense heat that had damaged it.

He turned to Carol who had grabbed onto his air pack, "Shit's falling, we gotta move! This place isn't gonna last much longer!"

They quickly, but thoroughly searched the remainder of the area before pushing their rescue efforts deeper into the building, closer to the flames. Carol worked her way in front of Daryl as she tossed objects out of their way. There were still no signs of life.

No trace of anyone at all.

With that, there were two worries that grew stronger in Daryl.

One being the possibility that no one was actually left inside. That the unaccounted victims were just mixed up in the chaos and confusion outside, and that his search team had been risking their lives due to a lack of communication. That their current efforts were futile.

The other was the possibility that these people _were_  still inside, lost somewhere outside of their search zone in the vast, complicated floor plan. That they were forced to breath this toxic air. The chance that they had already been consumed by the rapidly growing inferno. No matter how hard they tried, they  _still_ couldn't find anyone.

And it was in that thought that it happened for a second time.

Daryl instantly became paralyzed and the rhythmic, mechanical sounds of his breathing had seized. And for some reason, there wasn't as much shock as the first time. He wasn't as afraid, but was completely taken off guard.

Face half burned, unphased and emotionless while still in full turnout gear, Merle stood a good distance away with his head held high in the smoke. Carol obliviously continued the search, the gap between the two growing more as he stared at the apparition before him.

"Why do you keep doing this to me? What do you want?!" Daryl asked under his breath as his eyesight began to blur from sweat, tears, or a combination of the two. It was impossible to tell.

There was a sharp pain in Daryl's chest that seemed to radiate into his bones as the older brother stood, inhumanly motionless, with him trapped inside his stare. What did he do to deserve this torture? Why was his brother haunting him, seeking him out at the worse opportunities?

Maybe his ghost was real. Maybe it wasn't all just in his head. Not really some sleep-deprived hallucination. Maybe if he called Carol's name, she'd turn around and see him too. Then everyone would know he hadn't just lost it.

Merle suddenly rotated and began to climb up the stairs to a catwalk. The way he turned at the top and looked back down at Daryl gave him the feeling that he wanted him to follow.

So he did.

Daryl rolled to his toes and skipped steps as he climbed them, sliding his gloves up the railing until he hit the top. His brother's figure vanished several feet ahead like a cloud of smoke all of it's own.

Daryl glanced around, "What the fuck do you want me to do?"

He hesitated, but began to walk down the catwalk that gave him an exceptional view of the fire ahead, although mostly concealed in dark smoke which flowed all around him now. His mind was so obsessed with his latest task, he couldn't hear Carol calling his name over the radio.

Or maybe he _could_ hear her, but his inability to explain what had happened subconsciously prevented him from answering.

Although crouched down, it had become increasingly difficult for him to see the further in that he traveled. Smoke had grown thicker, flames were more widespread, and debris continued to fall. An intersection in the walkway came into view up ahead, along with a pair of boots that stood at its center.

Daryl straightened slowly, in disbelief, just feet away from the apparition. The closest he had ever been. He was careful not to make any sudden moves, as if they had the potential to scare him away.

Tears fell from his wide eyes as he got a closer look at his brother. He felt his lip twitch as he fought back his emotions. He couldn't do it, not here. Not in the middle of all of this. He wanted to reach his hand out, to try to touch him, but he was too afraid. Too afraid to watch as it would either pass right through him or cause him to vanish completely.

His one eye that remained unburned pierced through Daryl's soul, as if his brother wasn't trying to interact with his body at all.

He looked stern, the same as he always did when he was alive, but at the same time, sorrowful. As if having to watch his little brother's mental health deteriorate before him, _because_ of him, had some unprecedented affect.

Daryl dropped his head to blink out the tears that had collected in his eyes, the mask inhibiting him from just wiping them away. He looked back up and wanted to say something, but couldn't bring himself to. The look on Merle's face had changed to something which slightly resembled fear. His hand slowly raised, moving more fluid than any living being could, until he held a pointed finger down the perpendicular catwalk.

There was a cough.

Daryl's head snapped to the side at its unexpected sound. There, laying twenty feet away in the dark haze, he could see someone. He darted down the pathway and dropped to his knees at the man's side. He rolled him over to his back, only for him to let out yet another cough.

He frantically grabbed the radio speaker that hung at his shoulder, "I got him! I got a victim up on the catwalk! D side!"

Daryl proceeded to pull off his helmet and take down his nomex hood to get his mask off. He reattached it to the man's face and wrapped his arms under his and began to drag him. He felt the immediate affects of breathing in the deadly smoke as he began to try and expel it from his lungs, but he pushed through and kept pulling.

There were vibrations in the metal beneath his boots as the others ran up from behind.

"Grab his legs!" Daryl yelled as Shane came around in order to do so.

"What the hell are you doing with your mask off?! Are you insane?!" Rick scolded.

Yea. It wasn't exactly how they were trained, but Daryl couldn't care less at this point, "He needs air!"

Carol led the group down the stairs as they moved as fast as they could to the front entrance. They were about fifty feet away when a loud explosion sent them all falling to the ground.

Shane jumped on top of the victim as Daryl rolled to his back, watching as the back half of the building ignited into one large fireball. He listened as steel, concrete, and other debris collided and rained down throughout the level.

"Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!" Rick yelled as Daryl and Shane scooped the man back up.

"All personnel evacuate. I repeat, all personnel evacuate now!" A voice Daryl recognized to be Negan's was transmitted over the radios.

"What about the girl?!" Daryl called out.

"Girl?" Rick questioned without looking back.

"The girl! There's still a girl in here!"

"We can't! We gotta get out!"

As they neared the entrance, he began to visualize the heartbreak on her sister's face as they would show up outside without her. How would they explain that to her? How do you justify that? Sure, there was the logical, yet cold hearted explanation that conditions had deteriorated and four lives weren't worth the attempt to save one, but how do you look someone in the face and tell them that?

His heart sunk as he imagined having to watch the woman's entire world shatter at the news. The gut wrenching agony knowing that he could have prevented it. That she might still be alive inside. That they were going to stand idly outside as she died. That now this woman would have to endure countless nightmares. Emotional exhaustion. Terrible, sleepless nights. Horrific visions in her head on constant replay. Tremendous guilt and heartbreak.

They reached the door, and a set of EMTs moved in with a stretcher to take the victim.

Daryl hunched over, dry heaving and spitting out soot from his mouth. 

"Sir, come with us. We need to get you on O2." One of the EMTs placed a hand on his arm.

And then he looked up to see the woman's face, able to see her amongst an entire crowd. Her hand held over her mouth. Tears flowed down her face as it took another person's strength to hold her upright. She knew.

In the worse moment of her life, he was the first she had run to. The one she had begged. Trusted. Depended on. She had placed her heart in his hand, asking him to save it, and he had taken it and smashed it right in front of her.

The guilt was unbearable. Daryl glanced back over his shoulder at the building, and then to Rick who stood in front of him.

"Daryl?"

"I'm sorry, Capt."

Before he could stop him, Daryl had already taken off, charging back into the building.

"Daryl!" Carol screamed as Rick grabbed her and fought her from following.

"No! We can't go after him!"

"Daryl!" Shane yelled.

He replaced his mask over his face as he ran. Desperate calls, pleading for him to return, eventually caused him to shut off his radio entirely. He couldn't bare listen.

The heat was more intense now. There was more fire than smoke in the building. More determination than fear inside him.

He ran. He didn't know where he was running, but he ran. He scanned over everything. Tossed things aside and out of the way. Ran around every piece machinery he could until his lungs burned like the flames. He struggled to breathe, and the resistance he experienced from the SCBA didn't help. It required more effort to breath the decompressed air, and if he didn't stop to control it, he knew he'd pass out.

He all but fell into a metal container that sat by a wall and righted himself with it. Once he brought his gaze back up, he could see Merle again, further down and up on the catwalk. Daryl rushed to the nearby steps.

"Where is she?!" He called out as he ran over.

Merle didn't respond.

"Tell me where she is, damnit!"

Without a word or any form of communication at all, he dissipated. The wisps combined in with the smoke until no trace was left of the ghost as Daryl tried to grab ahold, as if to stop him.

"Why won't you help me find her?!" He yelled.

Frustrated and exhausted, Daryl leaned on the rail with his hands closed tight into fists. To quit and turn back was not an option, but he felt his luck running thin as the building continued to degenerate and crumble dangerously close by. 

Suddenly, and miraculously, a distant clanging sound came from down the catwalk. Just as he looked up from his perch to where he could hear it, a figure burst from the smoke and into sight. Daryl couldn't figure out if what he was seeing was real, or if it was just a figment of his imagination giving him what he wanted.

But there she was, dropping her shirt that she had used to cover her face and began to cough as she entered into somewhat clearer air.

She was far from the typical worker he would have expected to find. She was young, petite, and although battered in her current state, attractive. Not someone he would have thought to find in this line of work, and not like his mind should have been processing it like that at this point in time, but hey.

She looked petrified. Confused. Almost as if she had the same thought as him. Maybe he was just a figment of her imagination. What was one lone firefighter doing just _waiting_ like that? Her mouth hung slightly, trembled, but she remained frozen in disbelief.

"Hi." Was all his genius brain could produce.

"Hi." She returned, just as abrupt.

And then there was a second explosion. Closer than the previous one had been. _Bigger_ than the previous one.

Daryl grabbed her as they fell to the ground, shielding her body as debris showered down around them, slamming off of the pathway. There was a loud bang as something violently shook them. Daryl watched as a steel beam fell, taking down a section of the metal floor with it, separating them from the stairway.

He rushed to his feet as he grabbed the girl's wrist, "We gotta get out of here!" 

Just as soon as they began to run, he swung his arm out in front of her as they both stopped dead in their tracks. Flames had completely enveloped the other half of the walkway. The girl nervously looked at Daryl as he turned back around.

"What do we do now?!" She asked, panicked, as she followed him over to the side.

He pulled rope from a bag attached to a harness at his waist and looped it around the metal handrail.

"Are you gonna answer me?!"

He wrapped it around her waist, tied it in a knot, and secured the rope through his carabiner.

"Climb over." He instructed as he sat down and pressed his boots up against the side.

She peeked over at the ground below, "I can't, I'm afraid of heights!" 

"Got any better ideas?! Climb over!"

She swallowed nervously as she clenched onto the rail, throwing a leg over as her arms shook. She made eye contact with Daryl, who nodded as she successfully got into position.

"Just let go, I'm gonna lower you!"

She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to fight her body's natural reaction.

"I ain't gonna drop you!" He assured.

She nodded in recognition, "Promise?!"

"Promise."

She took a few deep breaths before she slowly released her grip. Daryl held the rope firmly as it grew taut, and then gradually began to slide it through his hands.

She swung like a pendulum, her eyes sealed shut while she hugged onto the rope. It was her phobia, ever since she was a child. It took one fall from a tree, resulting in a broken arm, for her to never want to set foot off solid ground ever again. But here she was, dangling from a rope, back to a wall of fire and smoke. It took every ounce of self-control for her to not completely lose it, but it came to an end soon enough.

She was grateful to feel the hardness of the earth once again as she tumbled backwards from the speed she met it at. She untied herself and stood back up to watch as the firefighter reeled the length back in.

"Go!" He yelled down to her.

It was a relatively straight shot to an exit from there, a few fiery spots here and there, but she could read the sign at the other end of the level.

She looked back up at him, "What about you?!"

"Working on it!" He fumbled with the carabiner and a hook.

"Well I ain't just gonna _leave_ you!"

He stopped for a moment to observe the stubborn expression on her face, "Why you gotta be so difficult girl?!"

She didn't budge, so he brought his attention back to manipulating the rope for his escape.

Just as Daryl went to clip onto the railing, he could hear something suddenly shift. Something _change_. As if the whole atmosphere of the building was altered as a result. He dove down, but there was nothing he could do for what was to come next, and it all began to happen so fast.

"Go!" He yelled to the girl as she ran for cover.

The amount of debris and everything else that had started to domino affect around him was a blur. Too much, and too fast to understand. Not enough time to react, and no point when there was nothing to do.

Nothing to do but lay down with his gloved hands tightly gripped to the brim of his helmet and halligan bar as he prayed to a God he didn't believe in. To feel jabs of pain as heavy objects pelted at his body. To feel the catwalk collapse as something else came crashing down beside him.

To suddenly hear no more ringing in his ears.

To feel no more pain.

To suddenly see nothing but darkness.

Nothing but pitch black.

He couldn't tell if his eyes were even open, or if he was standing or still laying down. He had no sense of balance or direction. No way of knowing where he was or what was happening. But there was a tremendous amount of peace that had overwhelmed him. He was comfortable and no longer afraid. He felt safe. Felt like he could drift off into an endless sleep.

And then something bright caught his eye. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. A whole new level of brightness. A whole new vividness. He felt a strong desire to move towards it. But before his eyes even had time to adjust, there was a familiar voice. One he hadn't heard all that long ago, but had already begun to escape his memory. One that encompassed him entirely.

" _Where the hell you going baby brother? It ain't your time yet_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC...


	5. The Easy Part

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI, the Daryl in this story is in his early 30s and Beth her early 20s so the age gap isn't as much as in the show.

The light disappeared as if someone had flipped a switch. Not an ounce of its tranquility remained in the darkness, which had been replaced with pain. _Excruciating_ pain. Pain that hit him unlike anything before- almost enough to send him back into unconsciousness again. He struggled to breathe through it all.

The first thing he could feel was the throbbing pain in his back, and his head which wasn't too far behind on the 0 to 10 scale.

But oh God, his back. Stabs of pain with every shallow, quick breath.

And that terrible, mind numbing sound that slowly grew clearer as he came back to reality. Two tones which reverberated back and forth, over and over and over, on an endless loop. Possibly responsible for half of the pain that resided in his head. He didn't have to be completely alert to recognize the culprit as his PASS device.

Jesus, that thing was annoying.

He didn't want to move, not even to open his eyes. Didn't really feel like he could even if he wanted to. There was a metallic taste in his mouth, and something wet down the side of his face that pooled in his ear.

And then his eyes instinctively opened as a low rumble shook the ground.

Through the heavy slits of his eyelids, he couldn't make out much of his surroundings. There wasn't even much to make sense _of_.

There was no ceiling, no walls... but there was a ground. Covered in a copious amount of debris and rubble, but it was there somewhere.

He laid partially on his side, his air pack wedged underneath which forced him at an angle. His air mask was off and sat next to his arm. His helmet, dented and warped, rested upside down next to a pile of exposed rebar from a demolished wall ten feet away.

He fought his eyes to stay open as he slowly rolled his head around, trying to regain his bearings. But first things first, that noise _needed_ to fucking stop.

His arm felt like it weighed twice as much as normal. He lifted his hand to the device attatched to a strap at his shoulder and clumsily searched for the buttons to turn it off. Three quick chirps, and beautiful silence. He was right, the repetitious alarm did cause a lot of the aching in his skull. Although the typical firefighter would have left it on...

Daryl watched as particle filled air swirled around in the beam from his flashlight before letting eyes drift shut again. He was unable to battle the tiredness any longer, but a voice from overhead startled them open again.

" _Morning, sugartits._ "

Through his narrow eyes, he could see Merle hovering over him with his hands on his knees.

"Fuck off." Daryl managed to moan.

" _Well that ain't right. Thought you'd be happy to see me_!"

"Not really."

" _You ain't looking too good, kid_."

"Was about to say the same to you." Daryl fell into a sporadic coughing fit, "Didn't think it was possible for you to get any uglier."

Merle laughed, " _Now that's the brother I remember. Back before he became such a pussy. Want me to get you a box of tissues sweetheart, or are you gonna balls up and get yourself out of this mess_?"

"Wish you'd just go back to being dead."

" _Speaking of which, I'd lay off talking to myself if I were you. Might freak out your little lady friend_." Merle motioned over to a section of concrete slabs to his left.

Daryl quickly aimed the light over. Her head jumped up from behind her knees as he was greeted with a pair of wide, blue eyes. Soot was smudged all over her skin, dust covered her clothing, and she had a small gash above one of her eyes, which were still locked onto his, but she looked fairly unharmed. The thought really didn't have time to cross his mind until then, but he breathed a sigh of relief to see that she had survived.

And now that her head was lifted up, he could see clean lines amongst the soot on her face from where tears had fallen, "I...I thought you were..."

"Not yet." Daryl grunted as he looked to see Merle had disappeared, so his line of sight dropped to his mask.

"It started making a... weird... vibrating sound... I didn't know what to do, so I just... took it off..."

"Outta air." He coughed.

"I heard the alarm... so... I followed it... and found you..."

His eyes traveled from the air mask down to his legs as she spoke, and shock instantaneously set in. The lack of sensation in his lower extremity had caused him to overlook the fact that his left leg had been pinned beneath a large chunk of rubble. A plethora of slurs spewed from his mouth as he rushed to loosen the straps on his shoulders and unbuckle the clip at his waste. He clenched his teeth through the pain that radiated from his back and into his ribs as the girl crawled her way over.

"Here, let me help." She reached out as he slipped his arm through one of the loops.

"Don't need your fucking help." He hissed through gritted teeth as he worked at freeing his other arm, which felt dislocated.

She obeyed and backed away. The terror that still occupied her eyes made him feel bad. It probably didn't help anything that the one qualified person to deal with this situation was heavily injured, trapped, and an apparent asshole. He couldn't help it, this wasn't the highlight of his career.

Daryl shoved the air pack aside and allowed himself to just lay still on his back for a moment, waiting out the surge of pain the movement had generated. With his eyes shut, he raised his uninjured arm up and pulled off the glove with his mouth. He unstrapped the radio from its pocket on his coat and twisted the volume knob as it lay on his chest. There was no chirp, the screen remained black, and as he held it up, he could see that it was badly damaged.

But instead of spilling enough cuss words to make a semi truck driver blush, which was his usual response for these sort of things, he found himself laughing. Of course it was broken, why wouldn't it be?

"Ain't suppose you got a phone..."

The girl shook her head slowly as she brought her knees back up infront of her to rest against, "Not allowed in the building..."

Figured.

Daryl propped himself up with his good arm, the dislocated one hanging limp over his abdomen, as he placed his boot up on the rubble that held his leg at bay. He began to push against it, straining, as the pain that seemed absent slammed in with full force.

"God damnit!" His voice cracked as he shouted.

This new pain was, by far, the worse. The thought of his bones being crushed underneath the heavy concrete made him nauseous. His head began to spin as he took a deep breath and braced himself, pushing his boot against it once more. The rock lifted slightly, but the burn inside his muscles and the inability to completely free his leg forced him to let it drop back down.

His face twisted in pain as he let out a scream, the only thing his nervous system would allow as he threw himself back to the ground.

The girl had made her way over and began to try and lift the debris.

"No! No! No!" He grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled her away as he combated the darkness that formed in the outer edges of his eyes.

"You can't stay like this!" She argued, "Just let me try and help!"

"Can you just give me a second?!"

She sat beside him as they both fell silent, not a sound from the outside world making it into their confined enclosure, and their only light source being the LED light on Daryl's turnout coat.

"...Sorry, just fucking hurts..."

She looked up at him, "Understandable."

"Beth, right?"

She looked dumbfounded, "How did you know my name?"

"Your sister."

She blinked back tears, "Maggie. She's okay?"

"Yea. She was out when we first got here."

"Good." She smiled slightly before it changed into fear, "What about Ben?"

"Who?"

She wiped her eye, "One of my friends. He was with us when we were trying to get out but all of a sudden... he just... wasn't there anymore... tried to go back and find him..."

"Grey shirt... dark hair?"

"Forearm tattoo?"

Daryl nodded.

"That has to be him! Is he okay?!"

"Yea... pulled him out... during the first explosion..." He explained as he was preoccupied searching around.

The Halligan bar laid a few feet away. He rolled and stretched to get his reach far enough, tapping it with his finger tips until it slid into his grasp. He wedged one of its ends as deep as he could under the debris until it looked like it would suffice.

"Let me do it." Beth stepped in.

"No."

She glared at him, "You know, I'm stronger than I look."

"Yea? Cuz you don't look strong at all."

"Stronger than a guy with one good arm." She mocked.

Daryl bit the inside of his lip, his hand still on the bar, as he seemed to contemplate.

"Fine." He growled, "Drop it and I'll kill you."

"I won't." Although inside, she was incredibly nervous, "Are you ready?"

"Wait." He adjusted his arm underneath his side, hand down on the ground as he squeezed his eyes shut and took a few quick breaths. He knew this was going to hurt something fierce.

Beth stepped over the bar, a leg on either side as she faced him and tightened her clasp on the metal. She watched as he braced himself and waited anxiously for his command.

Refraining from giving it any more thought, he opened his eyes and began to rapidly nod, "Now!"

Beth locked her arms and with all her weight, heaved the bar downwards as a gap instantly formed in the rubble. An agonizing cry fled Daryl's mouth as he felt his leg free up, using his forearm to pull himself out. Beth grimaced as she held the position until his boot finally slid out, releasing the bar to allow the rock to slam back down.

She rushed over to the crippled firefighter as he laid on his side, recoiled and grabbing for his leg. She thanked God for the thickness of his gear which concealed any evidence of the trauma underneath. She didn't know what to say or do as he seemed to fall still, batteling his weak vision as his consciousness was threatened yet again.

The pain transitioned from sharp to burning to throbbing as his brain began to block it out, mostly likely from shock. Whatever it was, he took care not to move as the injury numbed, momentarily giving him some form of relief.

But his eyes were heavy again, and in that heaviness, he could see his brother kneel down infront of him, shaking his head.

" _This ain't nap time, brother_."

Daryl lazily smirked, "Go to hell, Merle."

" _Already been there. It's called living_."

"Some... encouraging words..." He mumbled.

" _Just some hard, honest fucking truth. See, dying is the easy part. Minimal effort required. Just thought you'd be a little tougher than that. Instead, your ass is getting saved by a chick cuz you can't handle it yourself_."

"Can handle it just fine... still alive... ain't I?"

Merle grinned, " _I'll let you get that beauty sleep of yours, looks like you need it. Maybe you'll wake up acting less like a whiney bitch_."

"...asshole..."


	6. Where my Demons Hide

_By now, it would have been fifteen minutes since Daryl had been asleep in the bunk room with the rest of the crew, two hours after finally settling into slumber. Had he looked at a clock, he knew the digits would have read close to midnight, maybe even a little later, but there had been no reason for it. It was irrelevant._

_The only thing that made those tones even more suspenseful was when they'd break you out of a dead sleep. At first, you wouldn't know what was happening or where you were. You'd jump an inch off your mattress before you even had the chance to realize what it was or what you needed to do. Daryl swore his heart fell into AFib each and every time._

_And now, the once empty streets at the city's edge had become overrun with motion. Red and blue flashing lights illuminated and reflected off of surrounding buildings. Fire alarms mingled with the sound of diesel engines and radio chatter as an ominous glow hovered above._

_Daryl held the brim of his helmet as he looked up at the five story apartment complex; the top three floors fully engulfed as flames shot out from shattered windows. Screams as frightened victims watched their homes burn from the sidewalks below._

_Having just completed a check around the brick structure for any unknown hazards, he was in a hurry back to the truck where Carol had already begun to raise the ladder. He could see two of his men as they waited close by, but grew angry as he realized one was missing._

_With pike pole in hand, Merle was headed on a course for the front door._

_Daryl grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, "_ _The_ _hell you think you're doing?!"_

_"Oh don't give me that shit, baby brother. Shane and Eric can get it just fine."_

_Daryl blocked him from leaving, the eye shields of their helmets coming into contact, "Just get back to the fucking truck, Merle!"_

_"Think you're tough shit now? Grab a damn saw and do it yourself."_

_"Man, this ain't the time." Daryl growled._

_"You're right, it ain't. Now move." Merle bumped him aside with his shoulder and continued his course._

_"You really wanna go down this route with me right now?" Daryl yelled._

_Merle spun back around and charged at him, "Is that a threat, baby brother?"_

_Daryl instinctively braced for a punch but held firm in his spot. As insubordinate as he was being, Merle wasn't foolish enough to do something like that, and Daryl knew it. He stared into his brother's glare with equal force, their helmets touching again, with no signs of caving from either of them until Merle finally broke eye contact to spit at the ground._

_"Unfuckingbelievable." He marched_ _past Daryl to the ladder truck, making sure to slam him with his shoulder a second time._

_No one seemed to witness the argument as hose lines continued to get laid out and charged, ready to take on the first attack against the relentless flames._

_Merle, Shane, and Eric all headed up the ladder with saws and tools in tow. They reached the roof and all but Merle began to hammer at the flat surface with their pike poles to check for stability._

_\----------_

_Sweat beaded down Daryl's face as he exited the building with the search team. He pulled off his mask as he communicated over the radio with another officer._

_He reached the truck and grabbed a handle as he stood onto the diamond plate, "_ _Carol, keep an eye on those flames. Reposition the ladder if they get too close."_

_"You got it."_

_Daryl now watched as engine crews pumped steady streams of water through the upper windows, causing some of the flames to retreat back into thick, grey smoke. Another hose team had already made their way inside and were faced with the daunting task of climbing stairways to reach the main body of fire._

_He could hear the revving of saws and a consistent buzzing as the crews above continued their work to relieve the built up heat and smoke that was trapped inside._

_He climbed up on top of the truck and joined Carol's side, "They need to hurry the hell up."_

_Carol's only response was an uneasy glance._

_Daryl keyed his mic, "L3 to roof, progress check."_

_There was a long pause before the reply, "Finished. On our way over to the ladder."_

_Daryl watched as Shane was the first to appear through the smoke, followed by Eric, but just_ _as Shane had turned to descend, there was a sound. One Daryl would have dismissed any other time, but there was something about the way their heads had snapped around... something about the way they had yelled_ _._

_Daryl bolted to the ladder as fast as he physically could, but just as his boot had hit the first rung, fire rose up high into the sky and twisted demonically._

_"Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! Firefighter down! Firefighter down!"_

_"Merle!"_

_\----------_

Daryl jolted awake, thrown off by the sight that surrounded him. It took him a minute to remember the recent chain of events. It was just a dream, the same old nightmare, but this one had been more vivid than the rest. Made even worse when he realized where he was.

The next thing to realize was how much better his arm surprisingly felt, and that he now rested ontop of his turnout coat which had been removed and placed underneath his head. The pain in his leg was still existent, but for now at least, it wasn't as unbearable as it had been. His back ached but didn't feel as though anything major was wrong, but the symptoms of a concussion made its presence very known in the depths of his skull.

He turned his head to see Beth, marked up with more soot and dust as she stood with the Halligan bar. Sweat stuck to the top of her forehead, dampening the blonde strands around it as she wiped the back of her hand across her face. It was bizarre how angelic she could look despite it all, and even more bizarre how Daryl's mind kept drifting off on her features like that. Yet again, bad time.

He attempted to sit up, "What're you doing?"

"Tried to find a way out." 

"How'd that go?" He rested up against a broken slab of concrete.

She shook her head with a sigh as she tossed the bar to the ground, "Not good. I keep feeling like I'm gonna move the wrong thing and end up getting crushed."

"Did you do this?" Daryl rubbed his shoulder as he realized just how dumb the question was.

"Yea. You looked like you were overheating, so I took off your coat... noticed your arm." She sat down next to him against the rubble, "Daddy worked in an ER. Was one of the many things he taught me... although I never thought I'd actually use it."

"Well... thanks."

She nodded before growing somber, "Do you think they're gonna find us in here?"

"Yea, just gonna take some time. It's a big place. Don't even know if there's fire on the other side of this debris."

"Feels like it. It's hot as hell."

Daryl nodded in agreement as he pulled off the nomex hood which hung around his neck and used it to wipe off his face, "You ain't kidding."

"Can I ask you one other thing?" She spoke softly.

He looked at her curiously, "What?"

"Who's Merle?"

Completely caught off guard, he fell reticent and looked down to avoid eye contact. He couldn't figure out how she would have known.

"I heard you say it twice now. Once before you blacked out, and again just now... before you woke up."

Daryl squeezed his eyes and shook his head as he forced the words, "He was my brother."

"Was?"

"He's dead now."

Beth dropped her gaze at the unexpected reply, "I'm sorry. What happened? That is... if you don't mind me asking."

"Died in a fire three days ago... maybe four. Hell, I don't even know anymore."

Her eyes widened, "It's been that short a time?"

Daryl nodded as images from that day, aided in their rejuvenation by the nightmare, had caused his chest and throat to grow tight.

This whole thing had to be an elaborate act of pure karma; concocted as a form of physiological torture for something he had done so horribly wrong in the past, but just _what_  remained a mystery.

The hurt he had tried so hard to hide must have become apparent as he felt a small, gentle hand rest on top of his.

He did his best to keep his voice deep and under control, "Was there when it happened. I keep having dreams... and I keep _seeing_  him." He smirked, "Probably think I'm nuts, huh?"

She shook her head, "I don't think that at all. What you went through was traumatizing. I don't think I could've handled it... let alone kept doing what you're doing."

"Well, that's a change in what I've been hearing."

"It's true, though. I had a real hard time after, too."

"What do you mean?"

She bit her lip and brought her legs up to rest her arms around, "My daddy died last year." Her eyelids flickered as she tried to keep her composure, "I never would have imagined a world without him, but here I am."

"How'd he die?"

"A combative patient came into the hospital an hour before the end of his shift. Managed to get a gun off one of the police officers. Daddy tried to talk him down... was just the kind of person he was."

"Sounds like he was a good man."

"He was... I think I handled his death the worse out of my entire family... not proud of it neither... but I like to think I've grown from it. I've learned just how precious life is, and I try not to take it for granted anymore." She slowly rolled back one of her long sleeves, and with a moment of hesitation, held her wrist out to reveal three skinny, horizontal scars.

"You tried to kill yourself?"

"I don't know what I was trying to do. I was just... so unbelievably upset. Probably think _I'm_ nuts now, huh?"

He shrugged, "We'll just have something in common now."

Beth chuckled.

The air had settled by now but felt thick. It wasn't even remotely fresh, probably not the best to breathe, and Daryl tried not to panic at the possibility of running out before they could be found. His streamlight still produced enough visibility as it rested on his coat at an angle in front of them. He soon caught sight of a black, upside down object that laid a few feet away from them.

He pointed at it, "Could you grab me that?"

She crawled over and picked up his helmet, taking a brief look at everything on it. There was a band that held a door chock and smaller flashlight, which at some point probably worked but was now cracked and dented. A leather shield with the word "Lieutenant", the red number 14, and his last name which appeared relatively unscathed, but the golden eagle that attached above was crumpled.

As she rotated the helmet, there was a decal on the back just above the band. Some sort of winged creature with horns and a tail.

"What's that?" She asked as she handed it over.

"The sticker? Just something between me and the guys on my crew. We all have matching ones on our lids."

"A dragon?"

"A demon."

"Why?"

"Just reminds us that they're always there, riding our backs when we go out on calls. It's what we fight, and what we carry once we leave. We all have demons."

"That's pretty dark."

"Well, it's pretty damn true."

"Where's the rest of your crew anyways? I always thought you guys did things in groups."

Daryl exhaled, "We do. I wasn't supposed to be here... we were told to evacuate. Really hope that they just stayed outside... don't really wanna think about it, actually."

"Then why'd you come back?"

He hung on the question as Maggie's desperate pleas echoed throughout his head.

He began to wonder why it got to him so much. It wouldn't have been the first time he had to deal with a grieving relative. When he had to depart from the hospital after failed CPR, or listen as a medic declared a person who was just too far gone, he would have to watch it all unfold with very little he could do. It would affect him and sit within his conscience for a while, but he never imagined going to the lengths he did for the girl that now sat by his side. 

He fidgeted with the helmet on his lap, "Because not everyone was out."

She looked at him, slightly puzzled, "Me? You came back in, alone, for _me_?"

Daryl nodded, keeping his attention away from her face, "Your sister was the first person I saw when I got here... damn near attacked me when I got outta the truck."

Beth giggled slightly through a straight face, "Yea, sounds like her. She can get pretty protective... why would you do that though?"

Daryl glanced at her from the corner of his eye, "Do what?"

"Risk so much like that."

Maybe he hadn't thought about it at all. Or maybe the amount of weight from her imminent, yet preventable demise would have sent him spiraling down a deep, dark hole for the rest of his life. Maybe he didn't feel like he had much to lose, and that the possible gain would have been worth it. Maybe he saw himself instead of Maggie, standing idle and helpless as his brother fell into the pits of hell. Maybe he was sick of death.

An "I don't know" would have come across as kind of heartless, so Daryl settled with a silent shrug.

And then Beth looked at him. It was as if she attempted to analyze what was inside his head. As if she was trying to decode his mentality and figure out the deeper, honest answer. As if she could see through his barrier and into all of his dark, morbid thoughts.

He lowered his head and slowly met her eyes. The self consciousness he felt made him want to wither up into a ball, but her blue eyes paralyzed him. 

And then he flinched, almost imperceptibly, as they suddenly moved closer. Her soft skin pressed up against the short scruff of his cheek as arms wrapped tightly around him. His brain struggled to come up with an idea of how to react, so he eventually managed to raise his arm and rest it on her back. To him, it didn't matter that the touch ignited pain, but she must have noticed as she quickly released her arms and sat back.

"Sorry."

But Daryl didn't speak. Just looked into her eyes once again. The tension he previously felt was now gone, replaced with something more complicated. Something too hard to explain. Something very spontaneous.

He leaned forward and their lips locked. He didn't know what had overcome him, but he was relieved when she began to kiss him back. It was gentle, innocent, and far too short as he felt her teeth release his lower lip.

She looked up at him beneath loose strands of hair, a small grin on her face, "Is this how you firefighters typically pick up girls?"

His eyes darted to the ground as he laughed, "No, not really. Usually ask them out for a drink or something... collapsed building is a new one for me."

"Guess there's a first for everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So slow burns... yea, this definitely wasn't one!


	7. The Air I Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the update delay! Life has been busier than usual and I've been pretty sleep deprived. Gets hard to write when I'm not in the right mindset, and it took me longer than usual to plan out this chapter to begin with. I'll try not to take so long for the next one!

"How long do you think it's been?" Beth asked, her hands folded underneath her head as she gazed up at the darkness above.

The question distracted Daryl from repetitively opening and closing a pocket knife, "Try not to think about it."

"Is it me, or is it getting harder to breathe?"

With a flick of his wrist, the blade swung out. He watched as the silver metal reflected what little light it could, and with his finger, slowly pushed it back in.

"You're starting to freak me out with that thing." Beth stated as she watched him repeat the motion one last time.

He closed it in his fist, "Sorry."

She sat up, pivoting around to face him, "You didn't answer me."

"Well, what do you want me to say? The air is shit in here."

"No need to get pissy, was just askin'... You alright? I mean... minus the obvious..."

He smirked, "Yea, it's just... could really use a cigarette right about now."

"Same here."

Daryl looked at her with uncertainty, a small smile crept across his face, which he tried to conceal.

"What?"

"Nothin'."

Beth rolled her eyes, "Just say it." 

He shrugged, "You just seem like the type to drink green smoothies and shit... didn't take you as a smoker."

She let out a short laugh, "Green smoothies? Really?"

"Yea, you know... those nasty kale things... or whatever the hell they are."

"Okay, first off, they're not _that_ bad."

Daryl snorted.

"Secondly, I don't actually smoke... but I wouldn't turn down the offer right now."

He chuckled, "Nah, you wouldn't wanna. It ain't good for you."

"So why do it?"

"I quit a few months back... up until..."

She nodded in understanding, "You two were close... huh?"

Daryl shook his head as an involuntary chuckle fled his mouth, "'Close' is definitely not the word. We were about as dysfunctional as it could get... but no matter how much we hated each other, we were the only family we had." He reopened the knife and began to twirl the tip on the ground, "Our mom died in a house fire when we were young, and our dad was never around."

"Is that the reason why you became a firefighter?"

Daryl cocked his head to the side, "I think it's why my brother did it. He was eight when it happened. I was only four... don't remember much. Seemed like it always stuck with him. Kinda just followed in his footsteps... Wasn't really good at anything else, so I just went with it... and well... here I am." He raised the knife and stabbed it down, chipping a small piece of the ground upon impact.

"We'll be alright." Beth spoke with sudden optimism, "We're gonna get out of here. I know it."

Daryl didn't move his head as he glanced at her skeptically, but kept his mouth shut. He felt like it was part of his duty to keep her calm and hopeful, even if his mind had taken an opposite turn. What if they called off the search? What if they couldn't begin one yet? What if the hours turned into days? What if the air quality continued to decline?

But she fell apprehensive from his lack of agreement, "Right?" 

Daryl nodded, "Yea, 'course."

"So... what do we do now?"

"Not too sure... taking longer than I thought it would. Should try to move some of this shit again... just not sure how I can do that with my leg busted up..."

"I can do it."

Daryl's eyes began to scan across the mounds of concrete, steel, and unsalvageable remains of industrial equipment as he tried to form a strategy.

There was no telling how far they'd have to dig, and with the debris ranging from small rocks to large support beams, he had no clue how they were going to manage this. Maybe she would be able to squeeze through a small space and go for help, but there was no chance he could follow her. 

"Can you climb that?" He asked, signaling towards a collection of rubble that spanned the furthest way up.

Beth seemed uneasy, but nodded regardless, "Yea, most likely."

"Take the Halligan and see if you can free up some of the debris. Just be careful, watch what you do so nothin' falls on you."

"Yea, I got it. So what are you gonna do?"

"Motivational support."

Beth chuckled, but soon fell serious again, "How are you gonna get up there?"

"We'll worry about that when the time comes. Just take it a step at a time."

Beth retrived the Halligan from the ground and made her way over to the pile, hesitating at its height for a moment. She raised the bar up and hung it from a jagged rock as she found her footing. She climbed up a couple more feet before losing her grip on the bar, sending it clanging down the rubble behind her.

"Fuck." She mumbled to herself.

"Relax. Just pick it back up and try again. You're fine." 

As she made her way back down, Daryl looked around for any trace of the rope he had used earlier. He slowly, and painfully, slid over to his turnout coat and shined the light across the ground until a small bundle of the black fabric could be seen sticking out from under a pile of twisted metal.

"Beth, take my knife and cut some of that rope."

With a split second of eye contact, he could tell she knew what to do without explanation. He handed her the knife as she headed over to the rope, pulling out as much as she could before cutting the length. 

She fastened it on both ends of the bar, pulling the knots tight before hanging it across her chest, "Good idea."

"Yea, I sometimes have those. Take the light too in case you need it."

Eager to try again, she adjusted the bar behind her back, attatched the flashlight's clip to her belt, and began the ascent once again. She was careful with each movement, not wanting to put all of her weight directly on one spot until it could be deemed sturdy enough.

"You're doing good... almost there."

She pulled herself up onto a ledge at the top of the pile and stared at the formation in front of her, "Now what?"

"I dunno, start hitting shit. Try to pry pieces out of the way and make a path to crawl through."

She clipped the flashlight to the front of her shirt, " _If_ there's even a place to crawl through to. How do we know there isn't ten feet of this stuff?"

"We don't, but we gotta try."

She swung the Halligan bar off her back as she debated on where to start. She stuck the forks in-between a gap, wiggling it back and forth until one of the rocks slid out. She shoved it to the side, sending it tumbling down to the ground away from Daryl.

There was a slight shift in the debris that allowed her to remove a few more rocks with relative ease, until she came across a large chunk of metal and had to work around it.

After using all her strength to free up another portion of cement with the tool, she sent it down the side and sat her elbows on her lap to catch her breath.

"How you holding up?"

Beth lifted her shirt to wipe her face, "Quite the workout. I don't know how much longer I can go."

"Don't worry, you got this."

She nodded as she exhaled heavily and turned back to the small cave she had created. 

Her arms trembled with each piece of heavy rubble successfully excavated. Her skin glistened from sweat, her jeans coated in ash and dust. Her hands cramped as they jammed the bar back in for what felt like the hundredth time, but the chunk that was wedged next to a partially exposed metal beam wouldn't budge.

"God damnit!" She hissed through her teeth as she slammed the Halligan down with frustration.

She heard Daryl say something, but was too aggrivated to listen. She focused on the silver tool that sat in front of her knees and tried to regain the motivation to press on. She had done so much, gotten so far, and the thought of giving up now made her blood boil. There wasn't a question that she had to keep going. 

She picked up the bar and began slamming it in an upwards motion against the rock. Dust and small particles trickled down the walls of the tunnel.

"Beth, relax!"

She continued to hammer as she bit down on her lip, letting go of all the emotions that had built up inside of her; The guilt from leaving her sister's side to search for her friend. The sheer panic as she found herself trapped by the flames and raced for another way out. The acceptance of what seemed like inevitable death as the building fell down around her. The anguish as she reunited with the firefighter who tried to rescue her, certain he was dead. Not feeling like she was able to do or change anything at all. That after all she had survived, it was just false hope.

As the flat end of the bar slammed up once again, a small rock fell loose and landed at her legs. As she drew back the bar, she suddenly stopped. The smallest hint of light broke through the gap created in its absence.

"Beth?"

The side of her mouth twitched upwards into a smile as she placed the bar down. She adjusted herself up onto her feet and got her shoulder up against the rock. With as much force as she could manage, she pushed with her legs and felt it start to move. It raised a few inches until it tilted to one side. She grunted loudly as she used her hand to push it off her back, bringing a larger, yet heavily damaged area into full view. 

There was light smoke and sections of flames amongst a ton of debris, but she was certain she could hear the sound of high pressured water impacting surfaces off in the distance.

"I did it!" She cheared as she dropped back down and reversed through the tunnel. 

"You got through?!"

"Yup! Everything's destroyed... quite a bit of fire and smoke, but we might be able to find a way through it to get out." She lowered herself gingerly down the steep incline, "Now we just have to get you up there."

"I'm not so sure 'bout that."

She looked at him disconcerted, "You can't just  _stay_ here. Come on, give me your arm."

Before Daryl could argue, she had already pulled his arm across the back of her neck. He reached out for the nearby rubble wall to steady his balance as his broken body was hoisted upwards, but he couldn't tolerate the pain. He shouted out in agony as the two fell sideways, his body slumping back down. 

Beth gasped, "I'm sorry! Are you okay?" 

"Yea... that's not fuckin' happening!" He hissed as he grabbed his leg, "You're gonna have to go alone."

Beth glared at him, "No way, I'm not leaving you here."

"We don't have a choice! Look... you can find a way out, and go get help. I'll be fine here... have been this long..."

Beth resisted the wetness that threatened her eyes, sealing them shut as if to avoid the difficult decision entirely.

She could almost smell the fresh air through the escape route she had made, and she longed to put as much distance between her and this prison as possible; but she couldn't stand the thought of leaving him behind. She didn't want to leave him when he was up on that catwalk with hell raining down all around them, and she didn't want to leave him now.

But she knew he was right, there was no other choice. It was foolish to even think he could manage such a climb in his condition, and she realized it now in hindsight.

She also realized he knew it all along.

"How am I supposed to do this?" Her voice broke as she removed the flashlight from her shirt.

"It's alright to be scared."

She shook her head, "I'm not nearly as brave as you."

"Being brave doesn't mean you ain't afraid. The fear'll always be there... you just know there's something more important, and you don't let it stop you."

A halfhearted smile traced across her lips as she nodded, "I'll have to remember that one."

"Hey... Beth?" His words stopped her as she went to get up, but he seemed to stumble, "... I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"The kiss... I didn't... I shouldn't 've..." He bowed his head with embarrassment.

Pale eyes outlined in the deepest blue, the same ones he couldn't help but be captivated from this entire time, had suddenly found their way just inches in front of his face. They slowly closed as a hand pressed up against his cheek, filling him with a warmth he had gone far too long without. 

There was more meaning, more _passion_ , as their lips connected again. Beth hovered in closer as Daryl ran his hand up her back and into her messy, yet smooth-as-silk hair. Without having to lose consciousness again, all of the persistent pain he had been experiencing seemed to disappear as he let himself drift off into the darkness behind his eyelids. He took in the sweetness of her every breath, and the feeling of her fingers as they brushed the edge of his jawline until they reluctantly departed from one another.

With her face just in front of his, he studied her features as if to permanently remember them all. As if this was the last time he was ever going to see her.

"I'm not sorry." She said softly, her lips curled up to one side.

She soon got up and walked over to his turnout jacket, proceeding to put it on as he watched her curiously.

"What're you doing?" He asked.

"Figured it could give me some protection from what's up there." She zipped up the oversized coat and began to fasten the clips.

"Grab the airpack too... might get a couple breaths out of it if you have to."

She walked over to the air cylinder and pulled the harness up over her shoulder, "This thing's heavy."

"It ain't so bad once you get it on. Better than breathing smoke."

She tightened the shoulder straps before clipping the buckle at her waist. The heavy object felt awkward as her small frame leaned forward slightly to stay upright. She took the mask in-between her hands and gazed at the knobs and gadgets on the front.

"The tank's still on, so if you need it, just press the mask up against your face and inhale. Try not to breath too fast though... there ain't much left, if any at all... see that red button to your right?"

She looked down at the black box that hung over the shoulder strap, "Yea."

"Press it once you get up there. It sets off the PASS device. The others'll be able to hear it and find you."

Beth nodded as she fetched the Halligan bar and stepped in front of him, "So, how do I look?"

Daryl smirked, "Like a real truckie."

"I'll be as quick as I can."

Daryl nodded.

"So... I guess I'll see you again soon." 

"Hey," He spoke up as she turned away, "Wanna go out for a drink or something once this is over?"

Beth dropped her head and began to laugh, which receded into a smile as she looked over at him, "Sure. That would be nice." 


	8. Angel in a Mask

Beth reached the top of the mound, pulling the halligan bar out and undoing the airpack's straps. She set the equipment in front of her as she looked over to Daryl one last time, who remained propped up against a partially demolished wall.

"Wish me luck."

Daryl smirked, but spoke sincerely, "Good luck."

Beth grabbed the air pack and sent it through the tunnel in front of her, guiding it past the jagged edges that protruded out around her. She heaved it as far above her head as she could until it exited the tunnel and fell to the side on the ground above. She quickly finished the climb, tossing the Halligan bar and placing her hands on either sides of the exit as she squeezed her waist through.

She knelt next to the pack as a bead of sweat trickled down her face. She swung it over her back and got it on as snug as she could. She glanced around as she took a deep breath and rose with the bar in hand.

And with the press of a button, she activated the alarm.

\----------

For the first time since he was leaned up against a catwalk railing, seconds before meeting a girl that would accompany him through the second worse day of his life, he was alone. He no longer had to wear a mask in an effort to cover up what the past several hours had done to him. If he wanted to yell out in frustration, he could. If he wanted to completely unravel and let the tears flow free, he could; but he didn't have the strength, and didn't have the desire. There was no stopping what fate had in store for his future, and it wasn't himself that he was worried about right now.

It was her. It had been this whole time. He could only hope that the crews would find her fast and get her out to safety. Their luck was nothing but a thin, frail string, bound to eventually snap at some point. That was just the way these sort of things worked for him. Happy endings were reserved for fairy tails, and Daryl wasn't ignorant enough to deny it.

He could feel his body as it began to transition out of fight mode. He had been occupied the entire time with no option to quit, solely for the sake of the innocent life he was with. It was his job to get her out, and even though the method of doing such wasn't exactly the one he had invisioned, she was on her way towards it.

\----------

The remnants of the area resembled that of a war-torn city. The heat from the surviving flames had been retained and sweltered like the inside of a furnace. Steam shot out from a broken horizontal pipe next to a toppled support column, water vapor dissipating into the grey air above.

There was no easy direction to pick from, but a wall with exposed rebar appealed most to her. Maybe her small frame could squeeze through somehow.

She watched her step, pieces tumbling and crumbling down the unstable debris pile beneath her feet as she headed for the wall. She sent the tool through first and curled her chin to her chest as she moved her shoulders through.

The air pack clanged against steel.  

She backed out and tried again.

Not even close.

Having become a little more experienced with the straps on the air pack now, she loosened them and unclipped the buckle more fluently. She passed the pack in between the bars at a particular angle, one that gave it just enough room to slide through, before having to contort her torso to pass through the obstruction herself.

But once she got to the other side, she sat and let out an exasperated exhale.

She gazed around helplessly. A new field of overwhelming destruction everywhere the eye could see. Complete desimation.

What made the tightness in her stomach and anxiety in her head grow even worse was that she could no longer hear anything in between the blares from the PASS device. What she had thought were the sounds of hoses spraying water had seized. Nothing was left but the continuous sizzling and crackling from the glow around her.

Feeling as though her lungs were already struggling, she hesitantly reached down and grabbed the air mask and pressed it against her face. With a vibration and another damned alarm buzzing, she sucked in just enough to fend off some of the lightheadedness. 

\----------

Daryl clenched his teeth with a hiss as he eased away from the wall and down onto his back. It hurt to sit up. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to do anything.

He tried his hardest not to focus too much inwards, because in the dark silence, there wasn’t much else to do but realize how mangled he actually was. Bone grinded against bone when he shifted. He could feel the dried blood on his head crack and chip. Nerves sent shock waves of confused signals from all over, but he knew the sensations weren’t coming from little bumps and scrapes.

It was getting harder to keep his eyes open, and it was just as hard to decipher if it was due to injury or exhaustion. Whatever the cause, his arms now felt cemented to the ground itself. He may as well have been buried six feet under rubble by how heavy everything felt. 

And in his natural morbid way, caused by too many years of exposure to the subject, he began to wonder how he was going to die.

Would he suffocate? Would his surroundings finally give away? Maybe he was internally bleeding and just didn’t know it. Maybe his heart would just stop beating.

Dying within a week from his brother. How tragic. He could see the headlines a bit too clearly in his head, but he felt terrible for everyone back at the station.

Rick. Carol. Tyreese. Sasha.

Daryl huffed faintly, “Shane can go fuck himself.”

He caved in and let his eyelids flicker closed, providing at least one comfort to his tired body.

“ _Jesus, and now you’re just straight-up talking to yourself like a lunatic_.”

Daryl didn’t even flinch from his position, “Don’t you have someone else to go haunt?”

“ _This ain’t_   _a ghost story, little brother. It’s your damned life._ ” Merlechided.

“Yea?” He struggled to speak loud enough, “Thanks for reminding me, asshole.”

“ _You sent that girl out in this hellhole by herself, the least you can do is try to stick around for a while._ ”

Daryl peered out from half-lidded eyes to the blurry ghost kneeling beside him, “The hell you talking about?” 

“ _She’s been gone for five minutes and your sorry ass is already calling it quits_.”

“I ain’t calling it quits. My eyes are tired, s’all.”

“ _You sure about that_?”

Daryl was too frustrated and didn’t have the stamina to retort. He looked away from his brother’s disfigured face and fell into his thoughts.

He hoped Beth was okay. He hoped the others were too.

“Hey, Merle?” Daryl suddenly spoke.

The ghost hummed sarcastically.

“Did it hurt?”

If it wasn’t completely quiet before, it definitely was now. 

“ _I could feel my skin melting_.” 

Daryl squeezed his eyes closed again, “Did it last long?”

“ _No_.”

The answer was said in a surprisingly gentle manner.

“Do you blame me?”

Daryl looked up at Merle’s apparition, his face void of all its usual harshness.

“ _No, baby brother. I don’t blame you_.” 

\----------

Beth wiped her hands off, trying to get rid of the ash that had collected on her sore skin from all of the climbing and crawling. Blood had seeped through the grey layer and turned it a muddy brown, but the raw spots had started to glisten again.

Ignoring her fatigued muscles and sore palms, she reached down and heaved a chunk of twisted metal up and out of the way. She let the one strap on her shoulder slide off as she set the air pack down on the ground, repeating a routine of feeding the tank through a small gap and clambering behind it. 

She had already taken her last fresh breath from it, but without knowing how to just seperate the cylinder from the harness, she was stuck lugging the thing in its entirety for the sake of the alarm. She was going to have to ask Daryl to show her how to do it sometime incase this ever happened again. She chuckled halfheartedly at the thought.

The pack dropped down onto a section of  broken cinder blocks, but the hole wasn’t big enough. Something was catching at her side, and Daryl’s thick turnout coat wasn’t helping. She pushed and wiggled until she was turned on her side, and little by little, she inched her way forward until she fell out and landed next to the pack. 

Before she could get up, she noticed a stinging that was growing more and more intense. She glanced down at her legs to see blood trickling from a tear in her jeans, just above her knee on the side of her thigh.

“Oh, shit.” She grumbled, finding herself more frustrated than anything.

She pressed a dirty hand down onto it, inhaling sharply as it burned and throbbed underneath.

The last of her willpower and hope was seeping into dust covered fabric. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep going. Her mouth was dry and she was moving at a much slower pace than when she had started. She wasn’t even sure where she was going. Nothing around her was recognizable.

She was torn and didn’t know what to do. In the relative stillness of the hostile environment, it was easy to feel utterly isolated. Like she had done nothing but move even further away from her only shot at survival.

 _Their_ only shot at survival.

Her hand knocked into something that clattered from the coat as she wiped away a tear. With a sniffle, she looked down and saw a tag hanging from a clip at her chest. She held it up to see an emblem on one side, and turned it to see an upside down photo of Daryl beneath a few lines of font.

She righted the identification tag and stared down at the image, unable to help the smile that tugged at her lips. He looked a lot different, but his eyes were the same. Younger. Happier. As though he hadn’t been trapped in a fallen warehouse. 

Glancing back to her leg, she gently lifted her hand, relieved to see that the bleeding had slowed. It wasn’t as deep as she thought, causing a flicker of hope to return.

But then she jumped at the sudden sound of grinding close by.

 ----------

It took more effort to open his heavy eyelids, and more strain to see as he came to. A dull light casted down from the tunnel that Beth had escaped out of, but everything visible was a distorted blur. A part of his brain even tried to convince him that the light wasn’t real. That it hadn’t gotten brighter.

He watched as whisps of a translucent substance moved fluidly through the air, coming to a stop beside him to form the late brother frowning down at him. Daryl chuckled lightly, subsequently gagging and coughing on something in the back of his throat. A voice came out of his mouth that didn’t feel like his own. Not even really sure what he was saying or if it was even audible. The ghost didn’t answer either way.

But both heads turned to a sound. A low rumble and something else metallic and high pitched. Maybe this was it. The last thing holding this prision together was finally giving away. 

It sure seemed that way as dust began to disperse and cloud up the beam of light. He could hear rocks and debris tumbling off of each other as they cascaded to the ground. He could even feel small pieces of it rain down against his padded legs. The world was falling apart around him, and all he could do was lay there and wait for it to end. 

A violent screeching and whining sound began to drill through his ear drums, amplified inside the pocket of the enclosure.

 _If hell had a sound_ , Daryl thought, _that would be it_.

Thinking of hell, and for the first time in his unreligious life, he began to really wonder about the afterlife. Was it as simple as going to sleep and never waking up, or was he about to regret never skimming through that thick book that Carol always kept next to her bunk? Was he even deserving of a peaceful eternity?  

His thoughts were cut short when everything suddenly fell quiet again. 

Merle slowly turned back to his disoriented brother, and gave a simple smirk, “ _Goodbye, baby brother_.”

Before Daryl could untwist his tongue to even attempt to say something, he was gone. Vanished into the millions of other dust particles hovering above.

Then there were voices. Shouting. Calling out.

The sound of boots trampling over rubble and machines whirring down. Floating bright lights that made him squint as they fell across his face. Gloved hands grabbing and dormant pain awakening.

And before all the noise and movement around him faded away, a smile.

She did it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Sorry this story went on such a long hiatus. I decided to skim through it the other day and realized how badly I needed to come back and get these two out of there. 
> 
> There were two endings for this that I had in mind, and I was going to post them both and let the reader decide what route the story should take, but I’m thinking of just posting the damn happy ending since I made everyone wait so friggin long lol


End file.
